


filler episode

by spells



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Beach House, Beaches, BokuAka Week, BokuAka Week 2020, Day At The Beach, Ensemble Cast, Established Relationship, M/M, SakuAtsu, Travel, but they're barely referenced so like. this is just bokuaka and friends go to the beach, kenhina - Freeform, kurotsuki - Freeform, minor ships (see them if you squint) are:, say it with me, the most self indulgent fic to ever be posted in ao3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25726858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spells/pseuds/spells
Summary: Akaashi likes how days go by differently at the beach.Akaashi sits back, observes. He really likes his friends. He really likes this, right now.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	filler episode

**Author's Note:**

> this is extremely self indulgent but i hope you can indulge yourself in it too. enjoy!

Akaashi likes how days go by differently at the beach. Likes the way time’s slow, the way nothing’s hurried, the way the sun always seems to be high up in the sky.

At the beach, everyone wakes up really early, next to dawn, because there’s no point in waking up late in the morning, wasting away most of the day. Hinata is consistently the first one to wake up, followed usually by Akaashi himself and Sakusa. Sakusa makes them all coffee, Hinata goes out for walks, Akaashi picks up dry laundry from the clotheslines around the house, bathing suits and shorts and towels. Once the coffee’s done, everyone else starts waking up, Bokuto when his alarm sounds, Kuroo and Tsukishima when they smell coffee, Atsumu when he needs to pee – somehow, always at the exact same time every morning –, Kenma when Hinata comes back from his walk.

They only eat breakfast together once; most days, they spread apart, some eating it outside in the sun, lying on the grass with a grilled cheese, some actually sitting by the kitchen table and having a bowl of cereal, some grabbing a mug with coffee and crawling back into bed, some sitting in front of the television with a banana. It’s nice, too, how it’s not always the same people doing the same morning routines, even though they all wake up sort of the same way, everyday. Sometimes, Tsukishima just grunts with his coffee until the time they leave for the beach, but sometimes he goes outside and lies on his stomach in the grass, scrolling through Twitter on his phone. One morning, Hinata doesn’t even go out for a walk, just grabs himself a cup of coffee and stumbles back into his bedroom, dark circles and a late night.

Akaashi likes the schedule they all create, always leaving the house before nine in the morning, after the sun’s already warmed up the air and the sea, after they’re all awake enough, faces not swollen anymore.

Every morning, what Akaashi likes best is waking up next to Bokuto.

Akaashi likes opening his eyes in his embrace, and rolling out of it to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth. Likes getting some things done before he hears the quiet, but familiar song of Bokuto’s alarm, likes Bokuto’s stretching and big yawns when he comes out of their room like a bear out of hybernation, likes – much to his surprise, in fact – kissing sleepy Bokuto, doesn’t mind his morning breath. Likes the way his lips feel numb, all swollen up, and likes to squish his cheeks.

When they have breakfast by the table, Akaashi likes the way Bokuto keeps kicking his legs to get attention, even though his eyes are still barely open. Likes the weak smile Bokuto gives, brain not yet at full processing speed. When Bokuto grabs a cup of coffee and wanders back into the dark, drawn-curtains cave that is their bedroom, Akaashi likes following him and sometimes napping for a bit, head tucked under Bokuto’s chin, who draws lazy patterns with his open hand on his back. When Bokuto goes outside to the sun, Akaashi pulls on his sunglasses and sits on the edge of the roof’s shade, with Bokuto’s head in his lap, listening about what crazy dream he had tonight. When Bokuto sits in front of the TV, on the floor, legs stretched out and back supported by the couch, Akaashi washes dishes, cleans up the kitchen with someone’s help – sometimes Kuroo, sometimes Atsumu, sometimes Kenma –, sometimes gets a peek at his boyfriend’s relaxed face, eyes unfocused but staring at the TV, which could literally be playing anything, from a horror film to a kids’ cartoon.

Akaashi likes it when Bokuto pulls him close when they’re all walking to the beach, sometimes with his hand on his waist, sometimes with an arm around his shoulders. Doesn’t mind the human warmth added to the unforgiving sun blasting down on them. He’s gotten used to it.

They get to the beach, and Tsukishima and Sakusa open the umbrellas, sprawl out the towels underneath them. Hinata sprints for the sea immediately, yelling, and Atsumu snickers, but Bokuto picks him up and runs with him to the ocean, dropping him in the water much to everyone’s delight.

Akaashi lies in the sun for a bit, then goes to buy a popsicle and sit in the shade, reading. Bokuto comes out of the water, shivering, his lower lip quivering and turning blue, and Akaashi immediately hands him his towel, without even blinking.

“What’re you doing,” Bokuto says, shaky, trembly, and sits down next to him, but out of the shade, trying to get warmed up by the sun.

Akaashi closes his book, puts it back inside of their bag. “Was reading. Now I’m talking to you.”

“Mm, nice change,” Bokuto says, and reaches for a kiss. Akaashi kisses him, and his lips don’t feel cold, don’t feel like much of a difference compared to the popsicle. “You taste like coconut.”

Akaashi waves the popsicle, “You taste like salt.”

“Give me some,” Bokuto reaches for the popsicle, and takes a huge bite.

“How do you do that,” Sakusa says, from behind Akaashi, and when they turn, he has a mild look of disgust and confusion on his face.

“What?” Bokuto says, mumbles, chewing through ice cream like a champ.

“You… Bite ice cream. People don’t do that.”

“I do,” Bokuto frowns, confused.

“Not enough braincells for sensitive teeth,” Tsukishima says, looking to the side, wearing his expensive prescription sunglasses. He’s in the shade, only his feet bright under the sun, but he’s been in the sun a lot the past few days; his shoulders are cranberry pink, his face freckled and tanned.

“That’s mean,” Bokuto says, but doesn’t seem that affected by it. He bites another piece out of the popsicle, and Akaashi shoves him, smiling. He licks up the remains of his popsicle and sticks it in their little trash plastic bag. Bokuto nudges him with the top of his head, and Akaashi shivers at the cold, wet hair. “Wanna take a dive?”

Bokuto takes his hand, and they run through the burning sand on their way to the ocean. Akaashi likes swimming, likes how peaceful it is, likes the little waves floating by them and changing the height of the water on his shoulders, likes diving underneath a bigger wave and coming out with his hair pushed back by the water.

“Fuck,” Bokuto says, swims a little closer.

“What?”

“You’re so pretty.” Akaashi smiles when Bokuto kisses him, salty, cold, wet. The kiss is nice, in a way, because it’s so warm in contrast to the freezing water. It’s not nice when a big wave crashes onto them, though, and they both cough and sneeze out water, kind of laughing.

At the beach, it’s nice how there’s no hurry to do anything, nothing but peace and heavy air, ocean-scented air, clouds on the horizon. It’s nice how they stay at the beach eating nothing but little snacks all day, go home at four or five in the afternoon, when it starts getting colder, the sun going down slowly. It’s nice to have late lunch, or dinner, while the sun’s setting. Akaashi likes sitting outside because they can’t sit anywhere inside the house, wet from the beach like this, because they don’t have enough bathrooms for the shower queue not to be long. Akaashi likes how everyone washes their own clothes from the day, their towels and swimming trunks, and likes how the warm night weather is enough to make them dry by the morning. Akaashi likes how everyone lies on the couches, on the living room floor, sprawled out, chatting, having dinner. Akaashi likes to play cards with them in the little table, in the nearly-coffee-table, on the porch outside, under the clear, starry sky. Akaashi likes to sit inside and read, or play board games, or zap through TV channels because there’s really not much to do, nothing that has to be done.

Akaashi sits back, observes. He really likes his friends. He really likes this, right now.

Kenma’s kind of hiding behind Hinata, holding onto his arm, and they’re holding hands; Hinata’s smiling, like condensed sunlight, like seashells and lemonade, and yelling something at Tsukishima, something about him being mean. Tsukishima’s snickering, leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of iced tea, one eyebrow raised after what surely was some sort of tease. Atsumu is thumb-warring Kuroo, and Sakusa’s sitting next to Atsumu, on his phone, looking bored out of his mind but with his head supported on Atsumu’s back, his cheek smushed against his scapula. Bokuto-

Bokuto hugs Akaashi from behind, gives him a wet, sloppy kiss to the side of his neck before he can turn around. Akaashi flinches, “Ew, Bokuto-san!”

“How better to get your attention?”

“Asking, maybe. Or not even asking, I’m already paying attention to you. Always.”

“You weren't, just now.”

“You weren’t in my line of sight.”

“I thought you were always paying attention, how did you lose me?”

“You took yourself away.”

“Well, I-”

“Get a room,” Tsukishima exclaims, walking past them to go to his own room. Bokuto furrows his brow, but Akaashi considers it, soft inside his arms.

“Shall we?”

“Oh. Oh. I like this turn of events,” Bokuto whispers, kisses him.

Akaashi likes the lack of hurry of the beach. He likes the clear blue sky, clouds gathering by the horizon during the day, the stars impossibly bright at night. He likes the sand between his toes, believe it or not. Likes the grass, and the heat, likes the coffee in the morning and the iced tea in the evening. Likes the weird channels on the TV, likes the shitty internet connection. Likes the cheap popsicles, likes the chips they take in their bags to the beach, likes the seafoam and the shells in the sand. Likes to see Bokuto shirtless all day. Likes to sleep without blankets at night, likes having a sheet at most, likes the white noise the ceiling fan makes. Likes the privacy of their room, likes the warmth of Bokuto’s hands, likes the lines of sunlight from the blinds in the morning.

Akaashi kisses Bokuto until he falls asleep. He likes it.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for getting here. and if u left kudos, comments, bookmarks, or came to yell at me on twt (@kenhinabot), thank u as well


End file.
